


Missing

by The_Fandom_Changer



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: I Will Go Down With This Ship, M/M, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 06:49:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15625086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Fandom_Changer/pseuds/The_Fandom_Changer
Summary: Well this was sad and unnecessary.





	Missing

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the mission after Trevor gets back from digging up Michael's coffin in North Yankton. No major spoilers. Everyone's alive. P.S. every time I have He, Him, His capitalized like that I'm referring to Michael. Just so you know.

[BEFORE YOU START READING every time I have He, Him, His capitalized like that I'm referring to Michael. Just so you know.]

 

Trevor just left Michael in North Yankton. How could he do that? Sure Michael did it to him. Hell, he left Trevor for dead for nine year. Michael probably would have put him in that grave with Brad. Poor old Brad. Michael would have left Trevor there. So why was Trevor regretting it? He never regretted anything. Well, anything but the tattoo on his left arm. That cross mocked him the day he found out the snake was alive, but god he missed him. He missed Michael so much. He missed his voice, his shitty jokes, the way he laughed, the cigarette, whiskey and gun powder he smelled of.

"God, I miss him." Trevor admit to himself. He was currently sat on top his table in his trailer. The box of beer that sat beside him now empty as bottles littering the floor.

"Alright, I need to get out of here. I'm not gonna sit around and be a depressing fuck like..." Trevor trailed off not even wanting to say His name.

So he got in his truck and drove. Trevor didn't know where to, but he just drove. Drove farther from Las Santos. Farther from Sandy shores. Farther from the memory of Him. He drove until a liquor store came up and he decided to stop in and buy himself another case of beer.

Upon entering the store the man behind the counter greeted him but looked weary of Trevor's appearance. Without a word being said Trevor started to the back of the store where cases of beer were lined up nice and neatly against the back wall. His bee line for it was only broken when he spotted a bottle of whiskey. His favorite bottle of whiskey. Trevor looked at it, and then back to the beer, and then back to the whiskey again. With a aggravated sigh he took two bottles and aporached the from counter. 

"Any cigarettes or lottery tickets with that sir?" The man behind the counter asked. 

Trevor looked up to answer the man, but his mind unconsciously scanned the cigarettes recognizing the packaging of His favor kind of cigarettes. "Yeah sure, I'll take those in the blue."

Blue, just like His eyes. They were scanned and handed to Trevor and he paid for them and the liquor and left the store. He sat back in his truck and thumped his head against the steering wheel. Why the fuck did he just do that? He doesn't even smoke cigarettes. Why the fuck would he by the things He liked? 

Deciding not to put much thought into it Trevor started his truck back up and floored it down the road. He had drove all the way up into the night before he pulled off the road and parked looking out at the ocean. Trevor got out of his vehicle, taking the bottle and the pack with him, he leand against his truck and took a swig from the bottle. 

Thirty or so minutes, and a good amount of alcohol in his veins, later Trevor was finally starting to relax against his truck. He eyed the pack of cigarettes on the hood and decided to take one out. Trevor held it loosely between his lips while he fished a lighter from his pocket. The flick of the lighter was calming for Trevor, and the slow drag that followed suit from the cigarette brought a sort of comfort through him. Although it wouldn't be anything like his crack, or the warmth of the pipe in his hand, but it was comforting to say the least. The smoke that rolls in and out of your lungs, slowly passing through your lips. The scent brought a sort of comfort with it to. It brought back memories of Michael. Good ones. Memories where they would be laying on a bed in a hotel room, where they'd just lay in each others embrace. Memories of long car rides, one of Michael's hands on the steering wheel, the other holding a cigarette out the window. Memories of back allies being pushed against a cold brick wall and warm lips that smelled like the small stick in his hand would crash against his own.

"Yeah, sure, Lover." Trevor mumbled to himself. Taking another drag from the cigarette and watching the moonlight illuminate the waves of the ocean.

God, he missed Michael.


End file.
